<h2><SPAN name="chap89"></SPAN>COMRADES</h2>
<p class="poem">
Where are the friends that I knew in my Maying,<br/>
In the days of my youth, in the first of my roaming?<br/>
We were dear; we were leal; O, far we went straying;<br/>
Now never a heart to my heart comes homing!—<br/>
Where is he now, the dark boy slender<br/>
Who taught me bare-back, stirrup and reins?<br/>
I love him; he loved me; my beautiful, tender<br/>
Tamer of horses on grass-grown plains.<br/>
<br/>
Where is he now whose eyes swam brighter,<br/>
Softer than love, in his turbulent charms;<br/>
Who taught me to strike, and to fall, dear fighter,<br/>
And gather me up in his boyhood arms;<br/>
Taught me the rifle, and with me went riding,<br/>
Suppled my limbs to the horseman’s war;<br/>
Where is he now, for whom my heart’s biding,<br/>
Biding, biding—but he rides far!<br/>
<br/>
O love that passes the love of woman!<br/>
Who that hath felt it shall ever forget<br/>
When the breath of life with a throb turns human,<br/>
And a lad’s heart is to a lad’s heart set?<br/>
Ever, forever, lover and rover—<br/>
They shall cling, nor each from other shall part<br/>
Till the reign of the stars in the heavens be over,<br/>
And life is dust in each faithful heart.<br/>
<br/>
They are dead, the American grasses under;<br/>
There is no one now who presses my side;<br/>
By the African chotts I am riding asunder,<br/>
And with great joy ride I the last great ride.<br/>
I am fey; I am fein of sudden dying;<br/>
Thousands of miles there is no one near;<br/>
And my heart—all the night it is crying, crying<br/>
In the bosoms of dead lads darling-dear.<br/>
<br/>
Hearts of my music—them dark earth covers;<br/>
Comrades to die, and to die for, were they;<br/>
In the width of the world there were no such rovers—<br/>
Back to back, breast to breast, it was ours to stay;<br/>
And the highest on earth was the vow that we cherished,<br/>
To spur forth from the crowd and come back never more,<br/>
And to ride in the track of great souls perished<br/>
Till the nests of the lark shall roof us o’er.<br/>
<br/>
Yet lingers a horseman on Altai highlands,<br/>
Who hath joy of me, riding the Tartar glissade,<br/>
And one, far faring o’er orient islands<br/>
Whose blood yet glints with my blade’s accolade;<br/>
North, west, east, I fling you my last hallooing,<br/>
Last love to the breasts where my own has bled;<br/>
Through the reach of the desert my soul leaps pursuing<br/>
My star where it rises a Star of the Dead.<br/></p>
<p class="left">
GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />
1 of 2
2 of 2
Previous
Next
Update Required
To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.